Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 437 — page 3: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

; aad ee Deep ——— ee in earnest about helping me, you will have to meet me at the ferry at a comparatively early hour.” ‘‘f amin earnest, What is to be the hour?” ‘* Bight o’clock.” ‘* [Pll be there.” ** Allow me to inquire the meaning of your conversation,” said the professor, politely. ‘*T am about to become adetective, under Mr, Dorgan’s teaching; or, to speak more definitely, my aid has been requested in behalf of a poor woman who seeks a runaway husband, and for the pleasure and excitement of the thing I am going to help Dorgan.” ‘*'Nonsense!” said the professor, somewhat curtly. ** Don’t you approve of it?” ‘* What do you care about the case?” “Oh! it’s a matter of charity and excite- ment,” ‘*A woman seeks a runaway husband, you say?” i Yes, sir; nothing else.” ‘‘T don’t know; even the deserted wife don’t know.” ‘‘ You mean, she says she don’t know. I don’t approve of your mixing yourself up with such a case. Men don’t run away for nothing, and de- serted wives can usually tell more than the world knows. There is an unpleasant flavor about all domestic discords—better keep your skirts clear of this case, Philip, as it is nothing whatever to you.” ** What harm can it do?” ‘Tt may do a good deal,” “How can it? The deserted wife is one of the meekest of women; were you to see her, even you would not doubt.” ‘Thank you,” the professor hastily replied, **T don’t care to see her. If you want such asso- ciates, mix with them. I must decline.” He spoke irritably, and at thesame time show- ed a desire to drop the subject. Philip did not object. He thought himself old enough to have his own way and intended to do so, so the dis- cussion n not be prolonged. He was, how- ever, somewhat surprised that his father, usual- ly charitably inclined, was so averse to helping in the present case, The professor abruptly arose and lit the gas, As the light flashed up it fell full upon a picture Miata hung upon the wall nearly opposite to uke, It was a portrait which indicated the hand of a skillful artist, and seemed to stand out and in- vite attention from the quick sighted detective. It had only to present its claim to hold him cap- tive. Only his schooled self-possession saved him from a tell-tale start as he saw the painting. He had made a discovery which startled him! The picture was almost an exact likeness of the pectoeneRs in his pocket—the photograph of Zachary Rose! It was well for him that, after disposing of the remnant of his match, the professor again spoke to his son and their attention to each other pre- vented them from noticing Dorgan; so Duke had all the chance he wanted to look at the pic- ture on the wall, He could not persuade himself that he was mis- taken; the picture was there to destroy all his theories to the contrary, and each moment he saw the resemblance ee stronger. Forehead, eyes, nose, hair and beard—in eve way the two “shadows” were very much alike. He be- lieved they represented one and the same man. But how came a portrait of Zachary Rose in Woodside House? Greatly puzzled, but calm outwardly, Dorgan finally turned away from te picture. Be could not hope to stare at it long-r without attracting attention. As he turned Professor Woodside suddenly made a similar movement, and the two faced each other. “Do you find your calling a pleasant one, Mr. Dorgan?” asked the professor, politely. ‘“*T hardly know.” It was a vague answer, but the wonder was that the detective was able toreply at all. As he faced the man of science he made another dis- covery. Looking at Mr. Woodside he knew where he had see the face for which he had heen vainly hunting ever since he visited Mrs. Rose. That face which was impressed upon his mind like something seen through a vail, and which was like that of the picture, was Professor Archi- bald Woodside’s! {t was a startling discovery, but, after a mo- ment, the detective was ready to ugh at it. Resemblances were likely to occur in all cases, and Mr. Zachary Rose might have been a coun- terpart of George Washi n. Of course it amounted to nothing that fessor Woodside resembled him. 4 But the picture! Resemblances might be ex- lained away, but the fact that a picture of e Rose hung in the Woodside house was certainly singular. Deep Duke had too perfect self-control to betray his wonder, and he talked easily with the professor, There were many strange —— ¢ room, scientific and otherwise, and the detective referred to them with a definite ob- ject in view. ee - -—™- — Finally he carelessly referred to the portrait. | | The professor smiled. eEeEOueee—eeeeeee ee ‘* A likeness of myself as I was a score or more years ago,” he said, frankly. ‘I had it pst to oblige my wife, who was then living. wore a full beard at that time, you see, and it is not much like what I am now.” Duke did not mention the photograph in his pocket, nor did he see fit to say anything un- leasant then. He could not very well associate rofessor Woodside with Zachary Rose, but he did wonder how Mrs. Rose obtained the pro- fessor’s tee and why she asserted that it was her husband’s. Philip had been smoting his cigar in sulky silence. He had been too indolent to look at the photograph when Mrs. Rose exhibited it, but he now resented his father’s position in the case. He had been accustomed to obey him in a general way, despite the fact that he was long since bh s own master, and did not like to offend him now. As Duke arose, young Woodside again spoke: ‘So you really object to my going with Mr. Dorgan?” ‘**My dear Philip, you are “he own judge, and can do as you see fit, Still, I don’t approve of your assoviating yourself intimately with this case, Pay whatever Mr. Dorgan charges if you will, but let him do the work and dea with the woman. My observation leads me to believe no husband deserts a wife without good reason, Be sure you don’t bestow your sym- pathy on an unworthy woman!” With these words the professor bowed to the detective and withdrew from the room. Philip looked after him in surprise. ‘* Well, this is rather odd. I neither under- stand his emphasis nor his objection to letting me help you. One would think he bad a spite against our protegee—but, now I think of it, her name was not mentioned at all.” ‘*No. It seems that your father don’t like deserted wives.” **Don’t know why he should be opposed to them, for none ever did him harm. On the whole, Dorgan, I'll forego the morning trip with you, but I'm not going to let any ground- less prejudice cheat me out of possible fun and adventure. I'll see you again.’ The detective understood that Philip had no more to say, so he quietly arose to take his departure. Ashe did so the eyes of the portrait seemed to meet his own, and he could almost fancy the professor asserting his antipathy to deserted wives. It was a singular coincidence that a picture so like Zachary Rose, and so like Archibald Woodside, hung upon the wall. It was very singular! CHAPTER III. A STARTLING ACCUSATION. DUKE DORGAN left the house and started down the street. Darkness bad fully descended upon the “es * but the detective thought nothing about this. e walked on in deep thought, heedless of all about him. He was still wrestling with the riddle which had so suddenly been presented to his notice. The case which he had thought so simple had as- sumed a new aspect since he went to Woodside House. It was simple no longer; if the idea had not been so wild he would have thought that he could at any moment place his hand upon run- away Zachary Rose. The matter of the pictures puzzled him great- NE It seemed absurd to suppose that Professor oodside could be Rose, or know anything about that person, yet only his eminent position saved him from suspicion. Duke knew his reputation well. All scientific men knew the professor, and knew him as one of the most zealous of their craft. He had no taste for business, and, though the father of two intelligent children, often seemed to forget them entirely in his devotion to science. In his work he was patient, but in the ordinary affairs of life was often irritable and impatient. Add to this the fact that he was universally supposed to be the most honest of men, and the icture is complete as the world knew Archibald oodside. . ‘*T suppose there is some natural way of ex- plaining the matter of the pictures,” mused the detective, ‘‘and I must get at it. T want time, though; Philip is my employer, and I must not rashly offend him, All can be logically ex- plained, no doubt.” By this time Duke had reached a small, nar- row street which led from the one he was travel- ing. It was a shorter course, and he turned into it. He was too deeply absorbed in thought to no- tice how poorly it was lighted, or to care for the fact. Neither did he notice that a second man was moving quickly, almost silently after him. At that moment he had no more reason than an ordinary citizen to suppose any one would molest him, or he might have noticed the light- footed man who glided after him. The latter was evidently one who needed watching. All his attention was fixed upon Dorgan, and his eyes gleamed with excitement. He had been delighted when he saw the detec- Duke, the Silent Sleuth. —$ i ae . OOO eae V——S NE Yen ———__ -— ——— Ciel tive enter the narrow, aJmost-deserted street, and he now pressed forward to overtake him. Quickly and carefully he glided up to Dorgan, and then his left arm was thrown around the detective’s neck. That rude grasp was Duke’s first warning, and though he made an immediate movement to re- lease himself, his head was drawn back in such a way as to render him almost helpless. An- other moment and a hand slip into his pocket. It might have been the work of an ordinary robber, but, even then, he remembered that the picture of Zachary Rose was in that pocket! Already the hand had clasped over it! This directness might mean nothing unusual, but it flashed upon Duke Dorgan that it did. As the hand and the picture came out, his own hand closed upon the picture. The unknown uttered an oath, and clutched the detective’s throat. The latter flung around his foot, tripping his enemy cleverly, but lost his own balance and fell. Both men went down together, but the unknown had the best chance and partially saved himself, He was up in a moment and running away. Duke was but a trifle behind him, but as he made an effort to dash away in pursuit another hand seized him. He turned and saw a police- man. ‘*Hold on!” commanded the latter. “I reckon [ve got you !” ‘* Let me go!” said Duke, fiercely. ‘**T guess not, my bold outlaw.” ‘*Confound your thick head, I ama detective. That man is a thief. Let me—” **Oh! yes; let you get away! I guess not. I’m not so green as that. You're no detective,” Dorgan was not usually at a loss for decisive action and decisive words, and was not long in satisfying the patrolman that he had made a serious mistake. And a serious one it indeed was, for delay had enabled the unknown to make good bis escape, and all Duke’s efforts to find him proved fruit- less. He had gone and left but one sign. In the detective’s band wes one-half of a photograph—that of Zachary Rose. When the two men fell both had clung to the picture, and asa result, it had been cleanly torn in. two. The part left to Duke showed merely the shoul- ders and breast of the missing Mr. Rose; the late assailant had the half which bore the shadow of the lumberman’s face! Deep Duke was angry, but he wasted no words. He was well aware that action counted for far more than idle talk. He would have given a good deal just then to know to whom he owed the late attack, however. Absurd as it seemed at first thought, he could not avoid the belief that the photograph was re- sponsible for the whole affair. Whoever the man had been, he had made a prompt effort to secure the picture, and, once secured, had beat a retreat without molesting anything else. And the detective’s watch was within easy reach, Dorgan found his perplexity increased. Re- cent events were not in harmony with the ‘*simple ” case he had undertaken. One would suppose that instead of finding a humble old man, he had agreed to stir up a gang of des- perate law-breakers, _ * But I feel sure that picture was the sole ob- ject of this assault,” he thought, ‘‘and I am go- ing to know more about it. J have not yet properly gauged this case, but I begin to see that there is a good dea] in 1t, and I’m going to solve the riddle. Another thing, they won’t find me off my guard again. I say ‘they,’ for I feel sure that there is more to this affair than I have before dreamed of.” He made anotber turn about the place, but, failing to get sight of the unknown, abandoned the effort and started homeward. | In the mean while, what of the unknown? He had escaped observation by a device which seemed as extemporaneous as it was bold. but which might prove not devoid of method. When he turned into the main street he did not go far before he paused, placed one band on a fence and lea into the grounds of a fine house by the way. It was the P rae me of Professor Woodside, but unmindful of the fact that he was tre ing on sacred soil, the unknown continued his way until he was well concealed by the shrub- ry. Then he paused, chuckled and carefully put away the Bag ge 3 he had secured. ‘“It was a bold step,” he muttered, ‘but it had to be done. I’vecrippled that confounded Duke Dorgan right at the start, and mine shall be the hand to bridle and guide our gracious professor. Deep Duke is not deep enough for this case.” He looked up at the window of the scientist's study and smiled contentedly. ‘‘A land of promise,” he added, ‘and I'ma fool if I don’t make the honey flow.” Who was this man, and what the meaning of his exultant and gloating manner? aay sounded on the walk, and he shrunk back in the shrubbery and waited and watched. Two persons came slowly along toward him he smiled in. He kne~ them vell. Duke scomicbooks:com -_* Se